The Name Game
by SineTimore
Summary: It's Castle's first visit to D.C. to visit his...what? *one-shot*


**Disclaimer: **I borrow, I do not own.

* * *

_**The Name Game**_

She'd only been gone for twelve days. He still wasn't at all used to it, the time and the space without her. She'd been the mortar binding his minutes and hours and days for so long- and while he'd found ways to occupy his time, at least by all outward appearances, he could already feel the bricks coming loose.

They'd agreed, despite his brief bout of whining, to delay a first visit until she felt a bit more settled into her new position, her new routine, her new place. He, of course, was prepared to board a plane the very night she left, having been granted too little time for a proper goodbye or, as they had chosen to call it, a proper "see you soon." That sounded, to them, far less final, and this was, after all, supposed to be a new beginning.

They spoke each night, a rule they'd set, no matter what the hour, no matter what the duration. When she called him from the solitude of her bed two days ago, many long and grueling hours of work behind her, and asked hopefully what he planned to do with the coming weekend, his response was a flirtatious and resolute "you."

She laughed.

His ticket to D.C. was booked not ten minutes after he hung up the phone.

His flight to Dulles that Friday was anything but smooth thanks to the always unpredictable late spring weather. He wasn't, under normal circumstances, an uneasy flyer, but between the turbulence and the anticipation of seeing Kate, the second drink he purchased felt entirely justified. He downed the whiskey with enthusiasm, its bite carving an appreciable path down the back of his throat. He gazed fixedly out the window in wait, mindlessly rattling the ice in his empty cup despite the marked irritation of his seat neighbor. A short time later, though not soon enough for said proximate stranger, the first-class attendant, in a battle with Castle's reverie, asked him three times in delicate tone for his trash before her emphatic "Sir!" finally prevailed. He blushed in apology, offered her the refuse, and turned his attention back to the window, Kate's new city coming into view below. At last.

She, unfortunately, had to work a full day, she told him, but he insisted that he'd be fine in the city for a few hours alone. He'd been there on a number of previous occasions and had enjoyed its many sights and sounds, not to mention all of the opportunities to people watch. Perhaps soaking up the political atmosphere, he added, might even spark an idea for a new series of novels. And though he didn't particularly wish to entertain that notion, he adored Nikki Heat so, he was quite aware of that potential eventuality. Whatever she decided, he reminded himself.

Upon arrival at the airport, he hopped into a taxi, an oddly welcome change from a flight he'd rather forget, and directed the driver to the National Air and Space Museum where he spent the afternoon wandering and watching and wondering- mainly about what Kate was doing at any given moment. When his phone vibrated in his pocket shortly after 4:00 P.M. with instructions to meet her at her place in a couple of hours, the only sight in D.C. that he had any interest in seeing from that point on was her.

**XXX**

He admired the quaint architecture of her brick building for some time before finally approaching- longer than he probably should have given that she was waiting inside, but for the requisite amount of time needed to calm himself down a bit…given that _she_ was waiting inside. He imagined what she might look like in her new home, what she might sound like, smell like, taste like. It had only been twelve days, he admonished himself with a shake of the head, and then he rang the bell.

She buzzed him inside from her apartment and he ascended the stairs with anxious step. He took one last deep breath as the ornate door flew open in front of him and she crashed feverishly into his body. He stumbled backwards a step, nearly dropping the excessively large bouquet of flowers that he hadn't had time to move to safety, and wrapped his arms around her as though he hadn't seen her in years or might never see her again. If not for an insufferable beep suddenly emanating from inside, neither might ever have moved.

"Shit, that's the oven," she hissed, as she released her fierce grip on his midsection and ran to attend to the alarm.

"Wow," he teased, stepping through the entry behind her, "you sure are a romantic. I haven't seen you for two weeks and the first thing I get is a four-letter word." He dropped his travel bag on the first piece of furniture he came upon, one of the only pieces of furniture in all of the space he could see, and moved towards her with the flowers extended. "These are for you. Guess I win the first romance round, huh?"

"Everything's a contest to you New Yorkers, isn't it? Bunch of one-uppers," she winked. "Now, come over here and kiss me like it's been twelve days and then go sit on the couch so I can put dinner in and get us some wine."

Not needing to be asked twice, he dropped the bouquet and crowded her against the counter with his eager body. "After I do this," he began with a lick of his lips, "you're going to have to remind me what those other things were that you just said because I didn't hear anything after 'kiss me.'" He swallowed her snicker with his wanting mouth and their bodies melted together in welcome relief.

She joined him on the couch moments later, the growl of her stomach having instigated their separation from each other for final dinner preparations. "So, what did you end up doing today?" she asked, her green eyes peering at him tenderly over the rim of her wine glass.

"Well, you know how my days are," he sighed in faux exhaustion. "I had an early meeting in the Sit Room, lunch on Capitol Hill with Senator Ofsomestate, and then I argued before the Supreme Court this afternoon. Pretty run-of-the-mill stuff. All of that and I still managed to buy you a store full of flowers and make it here on time. I am the epitome of efficiency," he joked, offering her his glass in a self-congratulatory clink.

"You know," she purred, placing her wine on the coffee table and sliding her knee across his thighs before coming to rest in his lap, "if there's one thing that I've learned in my days here in Washington, it's that you politicos talk too much." She leaned in and ran her tongue along the length of his sun-kissed neck as his hands maneuvered their way into the back pockets of her jeans, holding her firmly in place against him.

"I assure you, Detec-"

He paused abruptly and pulled back.

"Are you okay, Castle? What's wrong?"

"I just…I just realized that I can't call you Detective anymore because now you're this mega-important government bigwig in charge of the whole damn country," he pouted while pinching her backside playfully. "I'm an old dog, Ms. Beckett. It's gonna be tough to teach me a new trick." He leaned forward again, his lips making contact with the soft skin left exposed by the vee of her shirt. "On the other hand…"

"On the other hand what?" she inquired, doing her best to form an intelligible sentence as his mouth continued its exploration.

"Well, I'm just brainstorming here, but super-hot-task-force-babe-fiancée has a nice ring to it, pardon the pun. I could definitely get used to that," he nodded with self-satisfaction. "Or, _oooo_, how about a kickass Secret Service nickname like Rosebud or Skylark?"

"I see you haven't lost your considerable charm during our time apart, Castle," she grumbled glancing at her watch, the food warming in the oven now nearly ready. "In all seriousness though, I, um…I think I have a better idea. Would you like to hear what it is?"

"Yes, please," he stammered, her provocative tone impossible to resist.

"First, we're going to eat the meal that I've prepared for us because we're going to need the energy." She bit his left earlobe lightly. "Then, I'm going to take you to bed." Her tongue licked a vertical line along his lips. "And when I do the things that I have planned for your body, you're going to find yourself repeating the very name that I most love to hear rolling off of your tongue...over and over and over again." Her fingernails grazed softly down his chest. "Do you know why that is, Castle?"

"I-that's-"

"Because you're going to be begging me to never, ever stop." Her lips tickled his ear. "Kate, please…Please, Kate…" she whispered, as the oven timer began to buzz. "Now, you sit and think long and hard," her words chosen quite purposefully, "about whether or not you can get used to _that_. I'm going to go get our dinner."

He grunted as she extricated herself from his lap and stepped away. "So, I think I'm just going to concede romance round two right now," he called after her.

"Always a contest, indeed," she chuckled.


End file.
